the number of hurtful words they throw at each other, the same number of cuts I make. The louder they shout, the deeper the wound.
And yet after the fight, when they see me covered in blood, they’d still wonder why I did it and blame me for doing such a thing.
See.. mom, dad.. these cuts are for you. these blood, I shed for you.. because that’s how much I love you.
I couldn’t tell them that.. Could I?
No comments:
Post a Comment